


Phases

by perculious



Category: Watchmen
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perculious/pseuds/perculious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three short pieces from before and after Dollar Bill's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phases

1.  


  
It took a while for Bill to start getting upset about the drinking, or rather it took a while for him to notice it.

When he did, he never talked to Byron about it. He just started reacting in ways that were familiar to Byron, somewhere deep in him that made his heart sink. It was like the way his father eyed him now on the rare occasions when he came home. Or the way his old college friends had started exchanging uncomfortable glances when he invited them out to bars. Or the way Frank had looked at him when he came to visit and Byron forgot he was coming and was out of his mind on whiskey in his apartment at three pm. Bill would come into his room to see him, bright and happy, and when he saw the glass in Byron's hand it took something away somehow. He didn't say anything about it but he clouded over.

It hurt more than a straight accusation would, so Byron started trying to hide it. He stopped going out at night to drink and hid bottles in his desk drawer. Still, though, he felt the way Bill hesitated, unsure, when Byron kissed him and Bill tasted alcohol on his lips. It made him feel cornered; he hated Bill thinking of him like that, but he didn't know how to convince Bill he was okay.

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" he said finally, naked in Bill's bed one night, Bill wrapped around him. Bill was almost asleep, and Byron waited patiently for his eyes to blink open.

"What?" he said.

"The drinking," Byron said. "It bothers you, right?"

Bill extracted himself from Byron to rub his eyes blearily. Then he dropped his hands to the bed, looking at Byron hard.

"I worry about you," he said.

Byron let out a breath. It was just about the only answer that could make him want to move closer to Bill instead of further away. If Bill had said yes, or accused him of drinking too much, of being a drunk, an alcoholic, unable to control himself—if Bill had put himself into the same category as Byron's father or his old friends or, god help him, Frank, Byron would have gotten angry and defensive. But hearing that Bill worried about him made him want to curl up in his arms again and never leave.

He agreed to cut back.

He spent the entire next day sober, and in return he got Bill grinning at him from across the room all day, without hesitation. At night Bill couldn't stop kissing him, and when Byron, laughing, finally turned away from him to go to sleep, Bill wrapped his arms around him and kissed the back of his neck. It felt better than anything Byron could imagine.

  


2.  


  
It was a sadness so huge Byron couldn't let himself feel it.

It felt like he was standing very high in the air, and at any second if he looked down he would fall. Losing Bill was so impossible that he had to distract himself, to keep believing it wasn't true.

He kept waiting for the moment when it would stop hurting so much and become something he could live with. It happened with all tragedies. There was always a turning point, when it went from something unbearable to something you knew you had to accept. Eventually he'd be able to live with this. He'd stop absentmindedly thinking it was going to reverse itself some day. He had to.

  


3\.   


  
The change was subtle. He almost didn't notice it. It was just that at some point he stopped being able to tell the difference between drunk and sober, fantasy and reality, thought and fact.

Things went strange. He poured himself a drink and sat down, and in the next instant the clock hands had moved ahead three hours. He stayed awake for days, and then slept for weeks. He wasn't sure where Bill was, so he called Hollis and asked if he'd seen him, and didn't understand why Hollis couldn't answer. Sometimes he found himself crying and couldn't remember why or when it had started.

Talking to Hollis was probably a mistake. Byron wasn't surprised when he saw the men drive up with the van. He rested his forehead against the window glass and shut his eyes.

He wasn't surprised, but it didn't mean he wasn't going to fight.


End file.
